Knowing Me Knowing You (2 page)

‘
So, who are you bringing?
’
Miranda
enquired
, looking straight at Kate with her ice blue eyes.

They were sharks eyes, large and emotionless, like a Great White. They showed signs of ferocity but very little common sense.

Kate froze for a moment and gawped at Miranda as if what she
’
d said had been in a foreign language and she hadn’t a clue how to translate. And then she realised Miranda was still staring at her, waiting for her to respond. She needed to speak to stop her mouth from hanging open. What to say? Try not to scream.

‘
I -
haven’t decided yet,
’
Kate said hurriedly internally cursing herself.

‘
I see!
Checking out that little black book.
I like it! Perfect! OK, well, Collins deceased calls for me, how are you doing with the Slater case?
’
Miranda asked, turning the conversation back to business.

‘
Fine, yes, I’m doing fine with that,
’
Kate replied swiftly.

Yes, she was doing fine with that, not even registered the death certificates with the banks
.
W
ell he’d only been dead three months and she’d been busy.

‘
Good! Perfect! Let me have the papers when you’re done,
’
Miranda said and flashed Kate another pearly white smile before heading out of the door.

Kate smiled back, waiting for the door to close. As soon as it did the smile fell from her face. Who was she trying to kid? She just couldn’t cope. It was eight months on and she was as useless now as she was at the start. All she wanted to do these days was cry, cry and cry some more. Everything was hopeless, she had been a terrible wife,
she
was a terrible mother and a very extra terrible legal executive. And now today she had terrible, terrible
bird
shite
and porridge down her only good jacket. And if all that terrible stuff wasn’t enough
,
now she had to find a man to take to a dinner on Friday night. She didn’t know any men; she didn’t really know how to go about getting one. What was she going to do? Let herself be humiliated by Miranda like always? Turn up alone and be a laughing stock for not having a date
,
or cry off and be a laughing stock for trying to avoid turning up
without
a date? There was no winning situation here.

She could feel tears pricking her eyes but quickly the door opened again and Kate fixed her smile back on, like it was a pair of false lips from a Christmas cracker. She eked the smile wider, acknowledging the entrance of Dorothy from accounts, stretching her mouth so wide that it hurt. She had got used to conjuring up a happy expression now; she had practised at home in front of the mirror. She had the ‘good morning’ smile for when she came into the office first thing. Not too wide with the mouth, crinkling the eyes slightly. She had the ‘yes I’m absolutely fine thanks for asking’ smile.
Slightly wider with the lips, showing teeth.
And she had the ‘life is wonderful I’m getting on without him’ smile which was as wide as her lips would allow and complete crinkling of the eyes until they were almost closed. Oh and laughter if required.

She waited for bouffant haired Dorothy to close the cubicle door and then she hurriedly left the toilets before she started up a conversation while she peed. She always did that and Kate found talking while listening to someone else peeing quite unsettling. It just wasn’t right.

She sat back down at her desk determined to have a proper stab at the Slater file. It was a horrible case, a farmhouse (agricultural relief), two small companies, (business property relief) and an argumentative family, (no relief at all).

She looked at her screen and stared at her reflection. It was horrible. What was she doing worrying
about pigeon shit on her jacket when she looked such a mess? Her hair was a state because she hadn’t had time to shower and her
straighteners
were broken. It was also in desperate need of a cut. It was naturally dark and thick which had been an asset when she had time to brush and style it, but now it had started to resemble a Halloween witch’s wig.

Today she also had larger than
normal grey bags under her eyes
due to
Bethan
waking her up at 2.30am and 4.00am unable to locate her dummy. And to top it all off this morning’s lipstick, which she had scrawled on while reverse parking, was now just a thin line on her bottom lip.

She clenched her teeth together and swallowed another urge to cry. This was all Matthew’s fault. It wasn’t supposed to be anything like this. She should have been feeling confident, comfortable
and
settled in her life not the complete opposite.

Matthew, her husband, well ex-husband technically, had left her and a then sixteen month old
Bethan
, eight months ago. He claimed he hadn’t taken to fatherhood, it wasn’t what he wanted, it had never been what he wanted and she had pushed him into it. Kate hadn’t known what to say the day he announced this. Coldplay’s ‘Fix You’ had been playing on the radio,
Bethan
had been happily hammering on her highchair tray with a spoon and she had been standing in her dressing gown, milk down her front and Rice Snaps in her hair. He had mumbled something about going to his mother
’
s and then left the room. She was still stood in the same position, staring blankly at her babbling daughter, trying to take in his words when he had come back down the stairs carrying two suitcases, already packed.

She had absolutely fallen apart. She hadn’t known what to do. She didn’t know who to turn to or what happened next. For days she lived some sort of half existence where day and night merged together around
episodes of
In the Night Garden
and
Zingzillas
. She couldn’t face work, she rarely got dressed and
Bethan
kept saying ‘Daddy’ at really inopportune times, like when she happened to let her eyes flit over the wedding photo on the dresser, or when she found an item of Matthew’s clothing in the laundry basket. She needed help.

Help had come in the shape of Hermione Wyatt. Realising that you didn’t get money in the bank by sitting around in your n
ightwear watching
This Morning
, Kate knew she had
to go back to work. But because in her misery
she hadn’t been able to face taking
Bethan
to nursery, she had lost her place there. At first, in angry tones she had tried calling the manager a Nazi. Then when that hadn’t worked
,
she had offered to pay for the time
Bethan
had missed. The manager said no and Kate broke down, sobbing until the hand piece was wet, trying to quote passages of law in an effort to frighten Mrs Hitler into giving her back her place, but even that had no effect on the hard-nosed manager.

So, she found the nearest childminder with a vacancy and got Hermione.

Hermione was eccentricity personified. She spent all day potato printing, hula-hooping and biscuit making with three of her own children, and a strange looking dark
-
haired boy called Cyrus who would only communicate by whispering.

Her house was filled to the rafters with toys, books and beloved clutter she and her husband Philip had picked up on the far-flung adventures of their youth. The couple were in to dreams
,
feelings and controlling your own destiny. Hermione read tarot cards and did rune readings as a sideline to her childminding. At first that made Kate question her suitability but
Bethan
had warmed to her immediately and that was the only reassurance she needed.

In a short space of time Hermione had become much more than a childminder, she had become a firm friend. She had helped her get herself together after Matthew left, and was determined to stop her from looking back. It was a good job Hermione had taken on Project Kate because there was no one else. Her parents were dead and her Aunt Jess lived in
Scotland
and they weren’t exactly on the best of terms.

Hermione was her whole support network and she and Kate were all
Bethan
had.

It was almost 6.00pm when Kate rang the doorbell of the Wyatt house. She let out a breath, glad she was there, glad she wasn’t at work and glad she had stopped at the supermarket and bought a bottle of wine.

She had spent too long choosing the wine really. She had recently developed a liking for South African wine, primarily because it was cheap but also because she had found a brand that was 14% and not too harsh on the taste buds. But they were sold out
and that
meant she had to investigate an alternative which in turn meant checking every price label for the best deal and finding one with the highest alcohol content. She had plumped for a 13.5% Chilean.

There was screaming from inside the house and then thundering footsteps and growling. The door was thrown open and Philip grinned at her as he whipped a hairy troll mask off his face.

‘
Hello Kate, come in
.
W
e were just re-enacting ‘The Three Billy Goats Gruff’ weren’t we kids?
’
he spoke letting out another roar and making all the children scream excitedly and run away from the front door and into the living room.

Philip was tall and lean with sandy coloured hair that always seemed to flop down in front of his eyes. He had a permanent grin on his face
that
made him look like
an oversized naughty teenager. He loved being with the children but was also equally at home burying his head in books about the lost treasures of far off tribal villages. Primarily he worked at the university but he was also involved with lots of archaeological societies whose work took him all over the world.

‘
I think that’s enough of the grumpy old troll now. Hello Kate, cup of camomile?
’
Hermione asked as she appeared from the kitchen and scooped
Bethan
up in her arms.

Hermione was almost fifty although you wouldn’t know it. She was one of those women who had sailed through pregnancy and childbirth and retained the figure she had when she was a young woman. She had skin that glowed, blonde hair
that
fell softly onto her shoulders and huge, kind, blue eyes. She was also capable and organised
-
annoyingly so. This was a woman who could wash up, change a nappy and make gingerbread men all at the same time. If she didn’t love her so much Kate would most probably detest her for being so perfect.

‘
Oh, I don’t know if I have time for tea tonight, I
…
’
Kate began, wanting to get home crack open the Chilean wine and drown her sorrows.

‘
Of course you have time, doesn’t she
Bethan
?
Mummy has time for a cup of Aunty Hermione’s camomile tea doesn’t she?
’
Hermione spoke, handing
Bethan
over to Kate and leading the way into the kitchen.

Bethan
put her arms around Kate’s neck and squeezed, hugging her tightly in agreement.

‘
Just a quick one then,
’
Kate agreed, kissing her daughter on the cheek and ruffling her hair.

‘
Come on kids, who wants to watch
The Jungle Book
?
’
Philip asked the four children.

There were squeals of approval and running footsteps and they all thundered back into the lounge.

‘
Bethan
has been
an absolute delight today haven’t
you Sweetie?
’
Hermione said, tickling under the
little girl’s chin as Kate took a seat at the kitchen table and propped her daughter up on her knee.

‘
Have you? What have you been doing with
Mione
?
’
Kate asked, looking at
Bethan
intently.

‘
Painting,
’
Bethan
responded with a smile.

Kate swallowed a lump in her throat; she was growing up so much. She was two, no longer a baby,
a
proper little girl.

‘
Good girl! Yes we did painting and then we made biscuits and then we ran around the garden and played hide and seek didn’t we?
’
Hermione spoke as she made the tea.

‘
It sounds like you had a great time,
’
Kate answered, bouncing
Bethan
up and down.